


Thursday Nights

by Kellec



Series: Thursday Nights [1]
Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Bisexual Male Character, Brief suicidal thoughts, F/M, Loyalty, M/M, Nacho is a whole mess my poor boy, Sexual Tension, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25591321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellec/pseuds/Kellec
Summary: Nacho goes out to clear his head, but there's one thing he can't get off his mind.
Relationships: Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca/Ignacio "Nacho" Varga, Ignacio "Nacho" Varga/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Thursday Nights [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875106
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	Thursday Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seraphtrevs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphtrevs/gifts), [Rrismo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rrismo/gifts).



> Originally written for Loyalty day of Lacho week but I couldn't get it out on time. Either way, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Dedicated to seraphtrevs and Rrismo, the patron saints of this ship xx

Nacho spun his tumbler on the smooth bar surface. He fought the urge to press the cool glass to his tired, over-warm face, even just for a moment.

He was feeling lucky that he’d gotten away from tonight’s meeting with Fring without a bullet in his head. The dead drops were staying for the Feds, but Fring had needed to walk away when he gave him the news. His cover was safe, but for how much longer he had no idea.

When he got home the air smelled rankly of burnt crystal. He found Amber and Joe both passed out in the bathroom, palms and faces pressed against the cool tile floor. He rolled them both onto their sides and tucked a cushion underneath their heads before grabbing his jacket and heading out.

When a day had been bad and a night at home offered no solution, this is where he came. The drinks were cheap, the girls were pretty, and the bar staff minded their business – sometimes that was all he needed. This is where he came to chase away thoughts of the past week of work, and just for a little while escape the reality of how truly screwed he was.

Besides Fring, other things had been bothering him. Ever since he recovered the product from the trap house, Lalo had been looking at him differently. He used to just throw him cursory glances, as if making sure he was where he’d left him, but since then his look had grown more interested. Heavier. Maybe he smelled a rat and was having some fun toying with him before pulling the trigger at last. Nacho stamped out the thought and threw back the last of his whiskey.

The rest of the night was still a blank slate. Maybe he would drink until his thoughts were a blur and drive his Javelin into the Rio Grande. Maybe he would get in a fight with a stranger outside a nightclub, swing harder than the situation called for, hurt someone on his own terms. Maybe he would drive to his dad’s place and beg him to flee with him again. Somehow, of all the options, that one was the most terrifying.

He pushed the bartender his empty glass and surveyed the room. A few regulars sat huddled in the booths, either deep in conversation or glued to the televisions showing football replays from two nights ago.

At the other end of the bar, not far from him, there was a group of five or six women, toasting and laughing pleasantly. One of them turned away to sip at her drink, and their eyes met.

She had black curly hair that framed her face and just brushed her shoulders. Her sharp brown eyes looked him up and down, lingering. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth – mechanical, of course, he hadn’t truly smiled in a long time – and raised his drink to her. A toast.

She glanced away with a smile and returned to her friends. He returned to his drink.

_“Let me get that for you.”_

_Nacho started as Lalo’s hand landed around his wrist. He held him there under a heavy gaze and a firm grip as he produced a handkerchief. Nacho found the place his focus had landed and saw a dried streak of blood running down his forearm. There was a cut just below his elbow, still sticky and bleeding steadily._

_“Must’ve nicked yourself on the way out,” Lalo murmured. He pulled the handkerchief taut over his thumb and dabbed the fabric against his tongue. Nacho flexed his arm under Lalo’s grasp. Lalo was stronger than he’d realized._

_Lalo wiped away the trail of dried blood, working his way to the wound itself, pressing against it for a few seconds. Nacho watched Lalo’s forehead crease with focus in the half-dark of the security lights. He was suddenly very aware of his breathing._

_“Can’t believe I didn’t notice it earlier,” he murmured._

_“Eh, I get it,” Lalo said. “I mean, situation like that, you can lose yourself a little bit.”_

_The hand gripping Nacho’s arm loosened, gently lifting it into the light._

_“Your blood’s high-” his fingers glided over Nacho’s pulse, “-your adrenaline’s going crazy-” he looked up with a smouldering gaze. Nacho hadn’t even realized it was happening, but during the discussion, Lalo had crept closer and closer into his space, until he was now leaning across the console, crowding him back into his seat._

_“Sometimes, when you’re caught up in that rush, you don’t even know what you’re doing until you’re already doing it.”_

_His voice was low and heavy. The hand not in Lalo’s grip curled into a fist. Nacho tried to cover a dry swallow._

_And then suddenly, it was gone. Lalo’s face cracked into a wide smile and he patted Nacho on the bicep._

_“Get some rest, man.” He leaned fully across Nacho and opened his door for him. Nacho tensed when his hand drifted over his thigh and the way back to his side of the car. It couldn’t have been an accident. He tried to right himself._

_“Thanks, man.” He unclipped his seatbelt and stepped out of the car. “See you tomorrow?”_

_“You know what, man?” Lalo said. “Take tomorrow off. Get some rest. And get your chicas to kiss that better, huh?” He cackled at his own joke and switched on the ignition. “See you Thursday.”_

_The Monte Carlo roared into life and sped back down the drive and into the night. A shiver ran down Nacho’s spine, but he wasn’t sure it was from the cold._

The seat next to him was suddenly occupied.

“My friends think you’re bad news.”

He glanced up to see her at his side, leaning in close to him. The dregs of red wine swirled in the bottom of her glass. She smelled like expensive perfume.

He turned his seat towards her. “Really?”

“Really,” she said. “In fact,” she leaned closer, “They told me to come over here and tell you that you better not even try and talk to me tonight.”

He laughed softly. She was playful. Oh, how he’d missed playful. His foot landed next to hers on the bar railing. “And is that what you’re doing right now? Telling me to not talk to you?”

“Could be. Depends on whether you decide to listen to me or not.” She batted her lashes at him. “Are you going to?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “no. I’m not gonna listen to you. What’s your name?”

“Jasmine.” She held out a manicured hand.

He took it in a firm grip. “Ignacio.”

They got to talking. She was a nurse from the South Valley. She and her friends were out for a night celebrating an engagement. He slipped into an old skin, one that didn’t belong to a drug-dealing rat. He told her he worked for his dad at the shop and was helping his friend get his restaurant off the ground on the side. What an easy lie it was to tell; and how badly he wished it were true.

Somehow, wearing that old skin, he manged to hold a conversation with her for an hour. He made her laugh, he made her smile, he made her grip his arm in a way that they both knew was beyond friendly. And yet, even with a beautiful woman feeling the size of his biceps, he couldn’t stop imagining a devilish smile and a salt and pepper moustache in her place.

Her hand landed on his with him barely noticing. Jesus, how drunk was he?

“Why don’t we head back to my place?” She whispered in his ear.

He nodded. “Sounds good.” He let her go back and say goodnight to her friends before leading her to his car. This was perfect. Whatever thoughts about work had been wreaking havoc on his mind, she was the best palate cleanser he could ask for. He led her out of the bar to a small chorus of cheers from the engagement party.

The drive back to hers was perfectly anticipatory. His hand rested on her leg and she ran delicate fingers up the length of his arm, ghosting over his hairs and sending heat curling down his spine.

Her apartment was nice, a modern build on the second storey with a good view of the Sandias. Although, the mountain range wasn’t the main appeal of the location.

As soon as she locked the door behind herself, he pulled her in by the waist and kissed her deeply. One hand found his waist and the other the back of his buzzed scalp, and she held him in place as she traced the line of his teeth with her tongue.

She was perfect. She was the first burst of sunlight after winter. Tonight, was just what he needed.

He broke the kiss. “Bedroom?”

She nodded against his forehead. “Down the hall,” she breathed. She pulled him by the hand and he very willingly followed.

Yellow light from the outside streetlamps sliced through the under curtains and cast the room in a soft warm hue. Jasmine – that was her name, wasn’t it? – leaned up and kissed him intently. He returned the gesture and followed her lead as she walked backwards towards the bed, crawling over her as she lay back.

He found the zip on the back of her dress and began working it down as she unbuttoned his shirt. When the last button was undone, she stroked the red shirt off his shoulders and reached for the hem of his wifebeater.

He leaned upright and pulled off his undershirt. She let out a breath of anticipation, but in the low light he could see her squint at his abdomen.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. Her hand found the gunshot scar against his side, feelings its ridges and dimples. Her gaze met his, brows pinched in concern. “What happened here?”

“Something stupid,” he said. He kissed her again before she could ask any more questions.

Lalo had asked about the scars not long after Domingo had been picked up.

_“Marco told me you were brave,” he said. “Guess I didn’t realize how brave till the other night.”_

_“Thanks,” Nacho murmured. He’d cornered him at the back of the restaurant, packing up after the week’s count. He glanced him up and down, eyes narrow, like he was seeking something out._

_“Let me see ‘em.”_

_Nacho blinked. “What?”_

_“Ay, c’mon Ignacio! Most guys in this business can’t wait to show off their battle scars.” A teasing laugh brewed in his throat. “Don’t tell me you’re shy.”_

_Nacho pushed off the wall, bristling from the teasing. He pulled down his collar reluctantly to reveal the shoulder scar. Lalo reached for him and brushed his thumb against the mark. Nacho managed to contain a flinch. The bullet remained, and if he weren’t careful, it would move around and carve fresh bruises into the long-healed injury._

_Lalo smiled tightly. “Marco said you took two.”_

_Nacho nodded, his jaw tight. “The other was in the gut.”_

_Lalo’s eyebrows raised expectantly. He didn’t even have to ask. Nacho already knew the question about to fall from his lips. And, he suddenly realized, he was ready to meet it._

_He reached for the hems of his shirt and singlet. He pulled them both off over his head, knowing Lalo’s endgame would have been to get him shirtless. The other man didn’t even hide his true intentions, just smiling sharply at Nacho, eyes raking over the now bare expanse of skin._

_Lalo’s hand landed over the scar, palm pressing against the edges of the dark circle of flesh._

_“Sheesh,” he murmured, “good thing the boys found you when they did, huh?” He looked up at Nacho. He didn’t pull away. Nacho held his stare. His hand was too wide and too warm against his skin._

_“Yeah,” Nacho said. “I guess so.”_

_The next moment hung heavy in the air between them. Neither of them moved, and the restaurant was dead silent save for the rhythmic surges of their breath. Nacho beat down the urge to hold Lalo’s hand in place._

_Too soon and too suddenly, Lalo’s hand was gone. The skin it had occupied felt suddenly cold._

_“Alright, I’m gonna head home,” Lalo said. “You don’t mind locking up, do you?” He tossed Nacho the keys, and he had to surge forward to keep them from clattering against the ground. He huffed out a ‘no’, keeping down a snide remark about how he’d managed to lock up every week for a decade and a half before Lalo had blessed Albuquerque with his presence._

_“I’ll manage,” he said._

_Lalo’s face split into that damn wolfish grin._

_“Excelente.” He patted Nacho on the arm. “See you next week, man.” And with the ring of the front door’s bell, Lalo was gone, as if he hadn’t been laying very insistent hands on Nacho just moments before._

Nacho pulled away and scrubbed a hand down his face. Jasmine leaned up on her elbows and peered up at him in the dark.

“You okay?” she whispered.

He nodded shakily. “Yeah,” he said, “just… just remembered something I have to do at work tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She deflated in disappointment.

“Don’t worry,” he said. His hand found the back of her neck. “It can wait till then.”

He kissed her again, and she kissed him back just as hard. He trailed a hand up the outside of her leg towards the hem of her dress.

Nacho tried his hardest to banish those memories of the past week from his mind. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on the woman beneath him, his mind insisted on wandering. He wished that the torso under his hands was firmer, and the hands running down his back were wider. He wished the mouth kissing his was more demanding, nipping at his lips and scratching him with stubble.

He thought of Lalo’s hands pressing against his scars.

Lalo’s eyes, staring at him from across the room.

Lalo’s lips, inches away from his own, pulling into a wicked grin before descending on him.

Lalo.

Lalo.

_Lalo._

He pulled away from the kiss with a start. Her eyes opened in surprise, hands dragging down his arms as he pulled away from her. He pulled his shirt back on and looked desperately in the dark for his shoes.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, sitting up on her elbows. He wished he could have given her a definite answer.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breathing frantic as he pulled on his shoes, “I have to go.”

He might have heard her say something, but it didn’t matter. He was dashing out of the bedroom before she could even finish the sentence.

He stopped at the front door to secure his shoes and saw her step out from the corner of his eye.

“Okay, I get it.” He looked back to see her standing in the doorway, arms crossed tightly. Her hair was a mess and he’d smudged her lipstick down to her chin. One of her dress straps was down past her shoulder. A pang of guilt hit him over leaving her in such a state of disarray, but no one had ever accused him of not being selfish.

“Who is she? Your girlfriend? Wife?”

He nearly burst into laughter. _I wish._

“It’s complicated,” he said.

She scoffed. “I’m sure it is. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

She stared him down as he stepped out of her apartment. Six months ago, he never would have imagined stepping out on a girl who brought him home. But since Lalo had arrived, something had shifted in him. His world had tilted on its access. It didn’t make sense in the way that it once had, but the new rules felt like ones he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

In the cool night air, he pulled out his phone and hit the first number on his speed dial.

Lalo picked up after the second ring. “Yeah?”

“Hey. It’s me.”

“Hola, Ignacio! What can I do for you?”

Nacho hated the way Lalo’s voice floated down his ear and curled warmly in his stomach. He marched toward his car. His keys were cold against his feverish palm.

“What are you doing right now?”


End file.
